Page 349 of The Hallmarked Man
‘You can’t—’
‘Watch me,’ said Strike. ‘How did Branfoot know details of Murphy’s work life?You told him.How did he know about Decima’s baby?You told him. But I promise you this: unless you keep your fucking mouth shut about those things going forwards, there will be no holds fucking barred our end. I’ll make it so no detective agency in the UK will touch you. Affairs with married men, Ray’s suicide, blowing Billings, popping off to Black Prince Road to film a bit of amateur porn – you think you’re fucking Teflon, but I’ll make sure so much muck sticks to you no power hose’ll get it off, and I won’t give two shiny shits how much of it’s true.’
Kim’s blush had faded to white again. Her eyes had filled with tears.
Strike returned to his mackerel, acting as though she’d ceased to exist. After a minute, Kim got up unsteadily and walked out of the restaurant.
‘Is it wrong,’ said Robin quietly, ‘that I really,reallyenjoyed that?’
‘If that was wrong, I don’t want to be right,’ said Strike through a mouthful of mackerel.
‘How did you—?’
‘Wardle. He tried to give me details of why she left the other night, but I was preoccupied with other matters.’
Remembering what those matters had been, he took another gulp of the Montrachet ’92, then said,
‘Wardle’s found out more stuff about Wade King of the green jacket.’
‘Really?’ said Robin, trying to sound simply interested. The mention of the man’s name had triggered a vivid memory of his face, distorted by cubic shadows.
‘He was a long-distance lorry driver until he got sacked.’
‘Long distance,’ repeated Robin. ‘Like—’
‘Our late friend Todd. Precisely.’
‘Has King been travelling to the continent?’
‘Probably. A lot of them do.’
Robin lowered her voice.
‘You think the trafficking ring’s still in operation?’
‘I think it’s possible.’
‘So, this looks as though Kingcouldbe Oz?’
‘I think that’s possible, too. I’m trying to find out where he was the weekend of June the seventeenth to nineteenth of last year. In the meantime, our security measures remain in place, all right? You stick to daytime jobs and no evening work on your own.’
Robin chose not to argue the point. Relieved by the absence of pushback, Strike said,
‘Go on with what you were telling me in the bar, about Austin H.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Robin. ‘Well, on Truth About Freemasons he asks if the masons protect each other.’
‘Think I saw that,’ said Strike, frowning slightly. ‘Didn’t someone respond saying he was thinking of the Mafia?’
‘That’s right,’ said Robin.
‘Fuzz,’ said Strike experimentally.
‘What?’
‘He didn’t say anything about “fuzz”, did he? I’ve got a feeling I saw the name Austin in connection with “fuzz”.’
‘As in the police?’ said Robin, puzzled.
